THE FOUNTAIN OF CANDELAS PART ONE
It was in a distant, fabled time, and in a season of that time when the earth lay seared with heat, as is a hearth beneath a fire: it was in a land hard by the well-nigh tideless, glistening crescent of sea, as brightly burnished as Sultan Mahmoud’s scimitar, which gazes across to Africa, that the story of Candelas unfolds. Favoured only child of the Count of that place, Candelas was the darling and the apple of his adoring eye, and as beautiful as the Virgin, and as shy as the wild goats of the... Sign in to see full entry.